No Regrets
by Lectori Salutem
Summary: Do you ever look at someone and think 'That could have been me' ? Shinichi does, but in the end he has no regrets. Oneshot. Not AU. No pairing.


The idea for this story came into existence after watching that one Conan movie (Eleventh Striker, I think), but it ended up having nothing to do with the movie. The only reference/spoiler to the manga is to that one where Shinichi gets invited to join Noir Tokyo and refuses (300 something?). That's all you need to know too, so don't worry if you don't remember! ;)

Please enjoy!

* * *

 **No Regrets**

(Do you ever look at someone and think 'That could have been me'?)

"Kudo, go warm-up."

As he did some stretches just outside the chalk-lined field, Shinichi realized that this might be _it_. He had joined Noir Tokyo to train there at fourteen, but never played an official game. He transferred to Tokyo Spirits soon after, because there was no point in staying after Higo-san left. He trained; increasing his skills and learning those 'dirty' tricks that were so unlike him but nonetheless within the rules. He neglected everything and everyone that didn't have a connection with the ball. And it might be paying off at last.

It felt like a dream.

The fourth official held up his sign to show the referee and the world which players would substitute. Shinichi blinked at _his_ 11 for a few seconds, until one of his teammates crossed the chalk line to give him a pat on the shoulder and a few encouraging words. Two steps forward and they had officially switched places.

Kudo Shinichi had made his debut in the J-League.

And as special as it was, he realized it wasn't _that_ special. It was just a field with twenty two players, two goals and one ball. Shinichi grinned fiercely. It was his game and he intended to win. That's all there was to it, so Shinichi played.

He played and played, until he saw his opportunity.

He accepted the pass, scissored past the defense and kicked. Goal.

1-0.

His teammates hugged him and the supporters exploded in a deafening cheer. With a start Shinichi realized the world outside the lines did, in fact, still exist. Out there the cameras flashed and all eyes were on him.

Shinichi smirked arrogantly. Those eyes might look at him with surprise, but he had known all along. His choices had inevitably led him here, to this moment, and he had no regrets-

One camera was not flashing.

As soon as Shinichi noticed this, its neighbours stopped as well. A horrified scream rang across the field. A photographer had passed out, unconscious or perhaps already gone. He heard the assistant referee call for immediate medical attention and police, and he saw security hurrying closer.

He stood frozen on the field, observing, until a heavy hand clasped his shoulder. "Kudo-san, I believe it would be better if you joined your team now." A member of security said.

"But-"

The stadium speakers announced an indefinite time-out, and the security member spoke gently, "See?"

And Shinichi let himself be led away.

He heard a familiar voice echo through the team's locker room. "Kudo-kun! We don't see much of you these days! I hope that means you are keeping yourself out of trouble."

Shinichi looked up, vaguely wondering how and when he had ended up sitting on one of the benches there. "Inspector Megure." He nodded. "I thought I was, but it seems to have caught up with me."

"Life often does that to us when we least expect it." The inspector said wisely, handing him a photograph. "Do you recognize the deceased?"

Shinichi studied the man for a few seconds, before shaking his head. "No, I don't."

A pause, barely noticeable, and then Megure continued. "The victim was freelance photographer, specializing in sports. The cause of death seems to be blood loss due to a gunshot wound. We will perform a post-mortem to make sure."

"I see." Shinichi replied.

Again that barely noticeable pause while Megure looked at him expectantly for a fraction of a second before speaking. "Don't you worry, Kudo-kun. The police will definitely solve this murder." He turned around and walked away.

Shinichi felt indescribably guilty.

Years ago, he would have been there next to the body trying to give aid. He would have gathered all the clues he could find, his mind going a mile a minute to figure out a solution. He would have jumped at all of Megure's cues, giving valuable input. He would have followed the inspector into the investigation without hesitation.

That was years ago though, when he still cared about things that have nothing to do with the ball and the game. His choices had inevitably let him here, to this moment, and he was no longer who he used to be.

No longer a detective… But he still cared, dammit!

Perhaps he could still…?

Shinichi jumped up from the bench. No regrets he had thought earlier, and it was time to mean it again. Ignoring his teammates' shocked cries he ran after Inspector Megure, in search of that one truth.

(The child known to many as Edogawa Conan turned around on his futon. He was not quite awake yet, but not fully asleep either. A murder had happened, though, and regardless the circumstances, he could not let that go. He sighed deeply and dropped into the dream again.)

Shinichi ran through hallways and corridors, and the world around him shifted. He descended stairs and he climbed stairs, and every step seemed to be higher than the last. The figure he chased changed from a police detective to a portly professor, with children surrounding him rather than officers.

"You took your time in the restroom, Edogawa-kun, the second half is about to start. No problems, I hope?" Haibara Ai asked as the still panting detective hopped into his seat.

"Not really, but…" Shinichi trailed off. He turned around to survey the stands, and in particular to inspect the still empty seat directly behind him. He continued, "Just a bad feeling I guess. Do you remember if the seat behind me was taken during the first half?"

"It was empty, I believe." Ai said thoughtfully. "Anyway, can't you save your bad feeling for after the game? The children were looking forward to it, you know."

"It's not like I make these things happen!" Shinichi complained with a huff. "And I want to enjoy watching too."

"Sure, sure." Ai told him patronizingly. Any further conversation was halted when the referee whistled to signal the end of the half-time break.

The tiny detective did his best to focus on the game as well, but the empty seat seemed to pull at his attention. He tried to get excited when a much anticipated player, number 11, made his debut in the J-league, but the feeling of foreboding only increased. When the empty seat was finally taken, it became too much.

"Oi, Haibara, do you have a mirror with you?" Shinichi asked, holding out his hand expectantly. The shrunken scientist looked at him with unimpressed eyes and handed over a small mirror without a word. "Thank you!"

With this tool he managed to spy on the person behind him somewhat inconspicuously. What he saw didn't ease his mind. It was a young woman wearing a grey coat, black gloves and a facial expression that could only be described as a frenzy of love and desperation. She clutched her unzipped purse tightly with both hands. Moreover, she was mostly focused on something or someone at the edge of the field, though she kept track of the game with short glances.

Number 11 played and played, until Shinichi saw his opportunity.

He turned around and sat on his knees, arms resting on the back of his seat. The woman didn't notice him yet, so he used his cutesy child-voice to address her. "Onee-san." She was startled out of her intense focus, but her gaze didn't waver. The stands were quiet and tense, like the silence before the storm. Shinichi continued. "Onee-san, they're playing inside the lines! You'll miss everything if you don't look!"

A deafening cheer exploded all around them. The woman reached inside her purse with one hand while the grip of her other became so tight her fingers turned white. "What about you, bouya? You should turn back around."

"I've missed it already." The detective shrugged. "Hey, did you know? The police are really cool! They can tell someone has used a gun from their clothes! They call it 'gunshot residue'."

"My, that is interesting." She still wasn't looking at him, but her hands were shaking now.

"But that's not all they can do. For example, if onee-san would fire a gun and then run away, they wouldn't be able to test her clothes, right?" His voice gradually lost its childish pitch. "But they would test mine, and my friends' clothes, and they would find just a little bit of the same residue. So the police would know the one in that seat did it. Of course no one checks if the person taking a seat is the same as the one who bought the ticket, but that doesn't matter. We're bound to show up on the television footage for the goal just now." Shinichi delivered the finishing blow with his best cute smile. "But it's only an example; onee-san isn't really going to shoot someone, right? Because if you kill someone, they're gone forever!"

It was that final line that did the trick.

"I hadn't even thought about after, I just wanted him to stop." The love and desperation didn't leave her, but the frenzy bled away. In fact, she seemed to be on the verge of crying when she truly considered the consequences her actions could have had. "I wouldn't know what to do without him."

Around them the cheers were just about dying out and the spectators sat down again. "Him?" Shinichi asked when she had composed herself again.

"He… My husband is a photographer and he lives for his work." She finally let go of whatever she had been holding within her purse. "He says it's his job to look at the world and capture those moments that are worth remembering. He has not taken a picture of me since I stopped entering archery competitions…" She chuckled bitterly. "But it was that dedication that made me fall for him, so I guess I have only myself to blame…"

She zipped up her purse and stood up, clearly intending to leave. "Onee-san!" Shinichi called. She paused. "Have you tried telling him this?"

The woman gave him a smile. "Don't grow up as narrow as him and me, bouya. Chase your dreams or whatever, but never ignore all the rest." With that she left and the murder case was solved.

Number 11 smiled mischievously.

* * *

"Good morning Haibara!" Shinichi said as he met up with the shrunken scientist in the park. Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ayumi were already playing some game, but they'd notice the final member of the Detective Boys soon enough. "I should have known you would get here last."

"Good morning." She glared at him, but was interrupted by a yawn. "Your mood has certainly improved."

"Improved?" He asked, confused. "When was I in a bad mood?"

"Yesterday." Ai replied promptly. "After we watched the game at the professor's together with the kids, you were sulking even though the Spirits won."

"I wasn't sulking." Shinichi grumbled. "I just… Do you remember the player who scored that first goal?" Ai nodded. "He's my age. A month younger, in fact."

"Ah." She was intentionally avoiding his eyes. "You certainly wouldn't be repeating elementary school had you chosen that direction."

"I don't regret it, Haibara. Not refusing that offer in middle school nor chasing those men in black." Shinichi said calmly, surprising her. "I would certainly prefer having my proper body back. Maybe I'll sulk a little bit and wonder if that could have been me. But in the end there are things I can't let go."

"You do like making your own life more difficult, don't you?" Ai teased, shaking her head to hide her smile.

Shinichi grinned, but didn't get to reply. They heard someone screaming inside the convenience store across the road.

"Haibara." With that one word he told her 'take care of the kids', 'be ready to call the police', 'I'm counting on you to have my back' and so much more. She nodded and he went to chase the truth.

* * *

AN: Did I write a story about foorball/soccer without using either word because I didn't feel like choosing? Yes. Yes, I did.

I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with the conclusion of the case. It used to be more complication, but that didn't fit the dreamy feeling I was trying to create. On the whole I'm pretty satisfied though, so all's well that ends well. I hope you enjoyed reading this, please let me know! Critics are also welcome, of course. ;)


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